


If You Let Me

by pxnsophical



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, blowjob, cumslut, cumslut credence, head - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxnsophical/pseuds/pxnsophical
Summary: Credence finds out that there is no greater method of praise or measure of prowess than the cum that pours from between her lips.





	

Credence’s broad, warm back pressed tightly against your spine where you sat, leaning against the foot of the couch. He’d picked a random movie for the two of you to watch, and you’d leant back between his legs, cuddling up nice and warm for the last hour. The movie was cute and you’d laughed a lot, felt a smile grace his lips and press itself to the column of your neck. Mary Lou had been gone for a while and Credence was just barely beginning to develop into a functioning human. He still shrunk into himself, still stuttered when he spoke to you, still kept his head down and his hands clasped together. He was making progress, though, and you were proud. 

The seemingly mandatory sex scene of every romantic movie rolled around, and you giggled quietly at the gulping sounds you heard emanating from the man behind you. Against the curve of your ass, you felt something swell. It took you a second to notice but when you did, your eyes widened as large as dinner plates. The two of you had hardly even kissed, much less even considered the involvement of his penis or your vagina in any sort of acts, and you’d almost pushed the idea completely out of your head until you felt the beginnings of a boner harden against your lower back. Unsure of what to do, you shifted in an attempt to distance yourself from his hard-on, but froze when you heard a soft groan. As much as you hated to admit it, there was a throbbing beginning between your legs and a certain dampness you knew would prove difficult to ignore. 

You went to move again and his arms laced around your waist, holding you tightly to him. His grip was firm enough to hold you still but loose enough for you to break free if you so desired. You didn’t move. “Credence?” You whispered, the hoarseness of your breath crackled in the air. A low whimper crept out of his throat and you felt his thighs, subtly and slowly slide upward; felt him draw in a low shaking breath as his cock, pressed firmly against the thin material of his pajama pants, slid against your back. The friction was entirely new and deliciously numbing, and his next exhale fanned out warmly against your throat. “Credence?” you questioned again, and he froze with the realization that he was just grinding into the curve of your ass like a teenage boy. Which he might as well have been, what with his complete lack of experience, even with himself. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered, arms sliding from your waist to wrap around himself. “You felt so nice and.. and I got caught up in the feeling. I’m so, so, sorry. I didn't mean- I promise I really didn’t me-” and you cut him off there. “Credence,” you said softly, “you’re turned on. You understand that, right?” He nodded, “And that’s perfectly okay.” His head shook softly, and you reached up to grip both sides of his face. “Want me to help you?” You asked lowly, tongue darting out to wet your lips. His eyes hooded immediately, and his lips parted just enough for a whine to leave his lips, “p-please?”

You turned immediately, sitting to face him on the floor. With one hand you worked his pajama pants down and with the other, forced him into a laying position. He was so pliant, so willing, it was both endearing and such a turn on to be so completely in control. 

You tugged his pajama pants down his legs and tossed them to the side, looking him in the eye as you slowly crawled back up his body, head hovering over the gentle curve of his cock as it dripped onto the white shirt covering his belly. Your head dipped down, lips ghosting across the head of his cock. You exhaled and watched his stomach tense dramatically, watched his fingers knot into fists that clenched tightly against his sides. You slid teasingly down his length until your lips met the skin holding his balls to his cock. “Relax.” You spoke against the skin, grinning dangerously when his cock twitched against his tummy. He let out a heaving, shuddering breath and let himself melt against the floor. You stretched your tongue out, curling along the underside of his balls to suck one into your mouth, finger reaching up to trace gently against the slit of his head, feeling a fresh dribble of precum press against your finger wetly. You release his balls with a pop, teeth grazing them gently and when a breathy moan leaves his lips, you feel a shudder dance down your spine.

Your tongue follows the bulging vein along the underside of his pink cock, lips closing to suck tightly at the bulb of his dick, tasting salty precum as it practically poured from his slit. Rather than give him time to prepare, to accustom himself to the feel of a warm, wet heat wrapped around his length, you took him immediately. He wasn’t exceptionally long, wasn’t unreasonably thick, and you found he slid quiet perfectly to rest an inch or so down your throat. Your nose rested against his pubic bone and when you stopped focusing on not gagging enough to pay attention to him, you found him curled forward, eyes rolled back, hand reaching toward your hair. His mouth was wide opened and you were positively pissed that you’d missed what must have been an earthquake of a moan. To compensate, you swallowed, and his reaction was nothing less than pleasing. The feel of your throat closing around the head of his cock in addition to your tongue sliding wetly against the vein along the bottom of his shaft was insanity, and he knew that if he had a brain left by the end of this, it wouldn’t be made of much but the memory of your lips spread tight around him. He practically screamed, the exhale a tremendous “OH”, that ended with his balls clenching tightly, hot seed shooting down the back of your throat. You pulled back quickly, struggling to swallow the hot, salty fluid as it flowed down past your tongue. You nursed the tip of his cock slowly until he was a twitching mess, the overstimulation absolutely devastating in its entirety. When he was completely flaccid inside of your mouth, you let him go. 

You could tell he was ashamed about a number of things, one of them most likely being how fast he came, if the pink stain on his cheeks and the way his eyes avoided yours like you were Medusa were any indication. You tilted his head up to yours, and smiled gently. Leaning back down, you slurped and lapped at the excess saliva and cum that had pooled around his cock, teasing and cleaning the flesh until there was barely more than a dampness left behind. 

What could be described as no more than a shell of a man fell back onto the carpet of your living room floor, completely boneless, nerves on fire. He panted desperately, eyes clenched shut, forehead coated in sweat. You’d be lying if you didn’t say the fact that you could visibly see that you just sucked at least a quarter of this man’s soul out of his cock didn’t inflate your ego to the fullest. You crawled towards his pajama pants, and in doing so, came to realize that your panties were absolutely drenched in cum; so drenched, in fact, that you found your thighs to be embarrassingly wet as well. You sighed, decided you’d resolve the issue yourself later, and crawled on. You slid his pajamas up his legs and felt a whole body shudder shake his frame when the fabric slid across his length, a indistinguishable grunt leaving his lips. “Come on, sweetheart,” you whispered, helping to heave him up and help walk him to his room. While he was very comfortable with you as of late, you knew that he needed a place to recede into himself when necessary, new that though your Credence was better, he still was not normal. 

When he’d been tucked into bed, you practically waddled to your room, trying to prevent your panties from sticking to your thighs. Quiet honestly, the whole situation was a mess. You threw your shorts off, followed quickly by your panties, and practically flew onto your bed. The sheets pooled around you as you nestled into them, settling yourself on your back. You spread your legs as wide as you could and propped them up, fingers drifting down to rub slowly at your hardened nub. It felt impossibly good and you resisted a soft moan, closing your eyes and releasing a long-held breath as your fingers danced across your wetness. You imagined Credence; soft, sweet Credence on his knees in front of you. You imagined him stuttering over whispered words, asking for release, asking to make you cum, asking for anything and everything. You imagined his lips on your neck, the shuddering sighs and breathy moans you now knew were far more glorious than you’d ever imagined in the confines of your bedroom. Your fingers drifted down and you spread your lips, so wet the action was audible, and slipped a finger slowly into your wet heat. “Credence,” you whimpered, hips tilting forward to slide your finger even deeper inside of you. A second and third followed shortly after, the thick wet sounds of your fingers inside of your pussy filled your room and if you weren’t so sure that Credence was dead asleep, you might have turned some music on to drown it out. 

Your assumptions were wrong, however, and Credence stood in awe at the door frame. He’d come to thank you and to apologize some more, and instead found himself in a situation he’d dreamt of only in the dark of night and with what he considered a fool's longing. You were spread before him, beautiful thick thighs pulled far enough apart to wear he could see every part of your womanhood. He saw the way you glowed in the low light emitted from your lamp, the way you trembled with every curl of your fingers inside of you, and by GOD he heard the way you moaned his name. It shook him to the core. He felt blood rush south, felt his head go empty with need. His sweatpants did nothing to hide the length hardening impossibly fast beneath them, and without a conscious effort, he began walking forward. He loomed closer and closer, practically stumbling by the time he got to you. Your moans washed over him, the way your legs locked around your hand whenever you got too close snapped something inside of him. 

He reached the foot of the bed right as you came, your soft scream made his eyes roll back and the thick as honey moans that melted from your soft lips made precum pour from his throbbing head, a large dark spot forming on his pants and it kept coming, and coming, and coming. He watched you buck into your hand, body curling forward with each tremble of your spine, watched the way your mouth pucker into an ‘o’, eyes pressed tightly shut, broken whimpers of “credence, fuc-oh fuck, Credence, yes” poured from your mouth. You fell back against the bed, panting heavily. Your hand fell to your side, legs still spread as cum dripped from your soaking lips. 

Credence pulled himself together enough to dare a glance at your womanhood, and what he found there dulled his senses until there was a ringing in his ears, and no thought in his brain but of your pussy. He stepped forward, eyes wide, fingers outstretched. 

Wetness. Thick, wet, pretty streams of cum coated your lips and your thighs and ghosted down the crack of your ass and it absolutely enthralled him. You jumped a mile high when his fingers made contact with your pussy but he didn’t notice, eyes unblinking. His tongue darted out to moisten his dry lips and he spared a glance up at you before his wide eyes flitted back down to your dripping cunt and his fingers ghosted across your lips. “Did I do this?” He asked softly, a whole different Credence from the Credence you knew. Gone was the shyness, the apprehensiveness, the stutter. In his place was an awed man with a hunger in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. When you didn’t answer, his fingers dipped down to swipe at the cum oozing between your asscheeks, and his lifted it up to inspect it. “Did I do this?” He asked again, albeit a bit softer. 

“Yes.” 

“Say it again.” He whispered, making eye contact with you as his finger disappeared between two pink lips. He sucked slowly, releasing his finger with a soft pop when it was clean of your juices. When you choked on your breath, his pleading eyes made contact with yours. “P-please, please say it again. I did this? I made you feel good?” Your vision went hazy, heat pooling in your abdomen all over again. 

“Yes,” you whispered breathily, “yes, kitten. You made me feel so good, I was thinking of you and I came so good. You did this.” It was crude and a terrible attempt at dirty talk but it appeased him and a soft whine left his lips. 

His head ducked down slowly and he inhaled the scent of your wetness, tongue darting out to taste you and you gasped. “I did this.” He whispered and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. His tongue flattened against your lips and flicked upward, coming to a point at your hardening nub. You shivered, hand knotting itself in his hair. His intentions were selfish and he knew it, but he also knew he had no intent to stop. He lapped and sucked at your pussy for what felt like hours, content to just taste your cum on his tongue and feel your little hole clench around his tongue every time you came. It was slow, it was warm, it was hazy, and he ate your dripping pussy like it was a last meal. Something told you he might have been content to have you as his last meal. When you’d cum so many times you couldn’t fathom coming again, when the tears had dried on your cheeks from you begging him to stop but holding him to you in a way that screamed stay, stay, stay, he released your aching pussy from his mouth. 

You tugged him up, settling him against your side before cold, wet cloth pressed against your hip and you jumped away. “What was that?” You asked, and he looked confused as well before a blush stained his cheeks and the Credence you knew and adored returned to you. “I-ah. Um. I might have cum. In my pants. A few times.” And with that admonition he slid from the bed and walked -somewhat like a penguin- towards the door. “I’m gonna go clean up.” He whispered, voice laced with embarrassment, and you giggled. 

 

You crawled under your covers and settled down on your stomach, legs spread apart because your pussy was so sore anything touching it made you jump from overstimulation. After half an hour of trying to get comfortable, you felt a touch at your hip. “Ah- Um, do you know how to get, um… How to get cum stains out of sweatpants?” 

You bust out laughing and it took entirely too long for your full body laughs to boil down into soft, infrequent giggles. “There’s some spray on top of the washing machine for stains and wash it in hot water.” 

After that, you felt right to sleep. Credence, however, laid in his bed wide awake with the taste of you on his tongue and a mind still hazy. “I did that,” he whispered, and to himself; “I want to do that again.”

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series!   
> I hope y'all liked it! Further editing will happen soon. 
> 
> I know it took me forever to upload but I'm having a lot of stuff going on at home and I don't exactly get paid for doing this. Thank you to those who stuck with me despite my lengthy disappearing act.


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